The Christmas Angel
by Marla Fair
Summary: Charles takes Laura out to pick out the 'perfect' tree for their Christmas celebration, little knowing that it will take an Christmas angel to make it happen.
1. Chapter 1

'The Christmas Ange' is based in part on a real incident that will be included at the end of the story.

oooooooooooooo

ONE

oooooooooooooooooooo

The snow was knee-high to him, but thigh-high to the little girl who followed him.

Charles Ingalls turned and looked past the sled he was pulling at his middle child who trailed about ten feet behind. It was Laura's turn this year to pick out the Christmas tree – with some help and guidance, of course – and they'd traveled about a mile from the house lookin' for the perfect one. They'd passed more trees than he could count on the way that he thought would have done just fine, but each time he stopped and pointed one out Laura would shake her head – sending her little red-brown braids flying – and so on they trudged, him with his axe and her with her high expectations, into the wintry afternoon seeking the 'perfect' tree.

Mary had made the choice to stay home this year. She was helping Caroline with Carrie. Their littlest had just fought off a fever and was in need of extra attention and, what with Christmas bein' just a few days away, his pretty wife was havin' a hard time gettin' everything done. It had been just about all he could do to leave between the scent of freshly baked bread and the blackberry and mince meat pies covering just about every open surface in the house. His wife was cooking for the dinner that would be held at church after the Christmas service ended as well as for their own celebration. He sure looked forward to that. This year he had managed to set a little money aside and he was planning on going into Walnut Grove tomorrow and buying each of the girls a set of store-bought scarves, mittens, and hats. It was an extravagance, but just about every woman in town was sportin' them. The Olesons had brought in some goods from New York about two weeks back and the three women in his house who were old enough to notice had been sighin' over them ever since.

He hoped he had enough to get Caroline a set too.

"Pa? Pa!"

Charles halted and turned toward his child. "What do you want, Half-pint?"

"Didn't you hear me? I been yellin' and yelllin'."

Lifting a gloved hand, he used it to pull the scarf that held his hat on off of one ear. Then he cupped his fingers around it. "You know how it is with us old folks," he replied. "Must be gettin' hard of hearin'."

The next thing that happened was one of his most 'favoritest' as his middle child would say.

Laura giggled.

"You ain't that old Pa," she proclaimed. "You know, you're just _kind of_ old."

Charles snorted. There were days when he felt old enough to give Methuselah a run for his money. Today had been one of them. He'd awakened with a slight sore throat and when he stood up first thing, he'd nearly lost his balance. He'd almost called the tree hunting expedition off, but he couldn't bear to break his little girl's heart. Most likely he had a touch of what Carrie had, but he was sure he would throw it off. He _had_ to throw it off.

He sure as shootin' wasn't gonna be sick for Christmas!

Abruptly, the curly-haired man realized he had drifted again. He looked at his daughter and had to suck in another snort. Laura was standing in the snow with her hands on her hips starin' at him – a perfect picture of her ma.

She shook her head and let out a long sigh that ended with... "Men!"

Before she could say another word, Charles dropped the axe and lead line to the sled. In four giant steps he was at her side. Catching her under the arms, he lifted his child up, tossed her into the air, and laughed as she came down breathless into his arms.

"Oh, Pa! Do that again!" she exclaimed.

"Seems men are good for somethin', eh?" he asked with a wink.

"Oh yes! Yes! I want to be a Christmas angel!" Lookin' straight at him, she stretched out her little arms like wings. "Make me fly!"

He did – two more times – and then he placed her on the ground. "Now, where's this magical tree?" he asked.

"Right there, Pa! See? It's the one that looks like Mrs. Mulvaney when she's wearing her hoop."

Margaret Mulvaney was a customer of his who lived near Sleepy Eye. While he wouldn't go so far as to call her 'tetched' like the locals, he had to admit she _was_ a mite eccentric. He hadn't realized she'd lost her three sons in the War Between the States until Doc Baker told him. When she came into town to the Olesons to buy notions and other things she talked about them like they were alive. Hiram told him she was what the medical community called 'distracted'. She couldn't cope with the loss and so she simply refused to admit it had happened, choosing instead to live forever in eighteen sixty-two.

Hence the hoop.

Charles picked up his axe and took his daughter's hand and together they walked over to her tree. Laura was right. It was just about perfect. The fir was a fat and sassy little tree with a ruffle of long, thick green needles all around its bottom. The trunk was straight and its branches were just far enough apart to place candles on. But there was a problem. There was another tree leanin' on it.

Both of them were about seven feet tall and of a pretty good size.

"Isn't it beautiful, Pa?" Laura asked, her voice hushed with awe.

He released her hand and circled around it. When he came back to her side, it was with a frown.

"What's wrong?" his daughter asked.

"Half-pint, it looks like lightning struck that tree next to it some time back. The trunk's split, that's why about a third of it is leanin' on your tree. " He paused, thinking how to phrase it. "I ain't sure it's smart to try to part them."

"But Pa, it's perfect! All of our ornaments are gonna look so good on it!" Charles winced as he watched tears moisten his child' eyes. "It ain't too tall. When you hold Carrie up, she'll be able to put on the star. And the tips are like fingers, Pa. They're just waitin' to hold candles!"

Charles eyed the trees again and let out a sigh. "Half-pint, I don't know..."

"But I do, Pa! It's the perfect one! You promised I could pick the tree out, Pa. _This_ is the one I want." She paused and then let loose with both barrels. "You ain't gonna go back on your promise, are you, Pa?"

He eyed his girl and then the trees again and then took another slow turn around them. The part of the wounded tree that was leanin' on the one Laura had her heart set on was fairly thin. Their branches had become entwined, but if he hacked a few of them away, he thought Laura could rest that bit of the trunk on her shoulder and hold it while he worked her 'perfect' tree free.

Hopefully.

"Pa?"

Charles stifled another sigh. "Okay, Half-pint, but you're gonna have to help me."

"Anything, Pa!" She held her hand out. "You want me to cut it down?"

"Nope. We men have to be good for somethin', remember?" He chuckled. "What I'm gonna need you to do is to take hold of that broken part and brace it while I work your tree free. Think you can do that?"

Laura beamed. "I can do _anything_ , Pa, if it means I get my tree!"

Charles gave her a smile and then headed for the sled – the one that held everythin' he needed for roping and herding a tree home. This year he'd brought one along to place the tree on after he cut it down. The year before he'd nearly thrown his back out haulin' Mary's special tree home by hand.

Maybe he _was_ gettin' old!

Pulling the sled along with him, Charles returned to his child and the tangled trees.

"What do you want me to do, Pa?" Laura asked, her eagerness making her voice notch up a note or two.

"Come here," he said and then, after removing a few of the branches, directed her to stand under the splintered portion of the tree trunk. "Take hold of that and see if you think you can hold it."

Laura did as he said, balancing the portion of trunk on her shoulder and wrapping her hands around it. "Sure can, Pa!"

The curly-haired man nodded even as he eyed the wounded tree with trepidation. Lightning had struck it at some point – probably during the late summer rains – shaving off about a third of the trunk, which was the part Laura was holding. The needles on the branches extending from it were green, indicating it was still living and, therefore, shouldn't crumble from rot.

"What're you waitin' for, Pa?" Laura asked. "My tree wants to go home with us!"

"Just calculatin'," Charles replied as he struck the axe head into the frozen ground so he could tug on his gloves. "I gotta work it free before I can cut it down."

"Okay, I'll just keep holdin' it then."

"You do that," he said with a nod as he ducked under the splintered trunk and slipped between his child and the tree she had to have. After sizing it up, he decided on the best place to take hold. Placing one hand to either side, Charles lifted up and hauled back, intending to work it free. As he did, there was an ominous _'crack!'_

And then the tree groaned.

"Laura, let go!" he shouted as the portion of the tree he held shifted forward. "Move away!"

He could see her, staring at him through a storm of falling leaves and bracken. Laura heard him, but surprise and fear rooted her to the spot.

"Pa...?"

"Laura, now!" he ordered even as a second groan made him turn and look. It was then he realized he had made a mistake. The tree wasn't wounded. It was dead.

Because the rest of it was coming down.

Laura _still_ hadn't moved.

At that moment, Charles realized there was only one choice. Releasing the portion of the trunk he held, he caught hold of his child and threw her as hard as he could.

Just before the tree hit him.

ooooooooooooooooooooo

Laura didn't know what had happened.

One second she'd been standing, holding onto the tree trunk, and the next she found herself face down in the snow. She laid there for a moment, tryin' to figure it out, and then she remembered the tree groaning and a 'crack!' like a ruler on the back of a ornery student's fingers. That was right! She'd been holding up the part of that old tree that was layin' on the one she wanted. Pa'd stepped in and was tryin' to free _her_ tree.

Pa!

The little girl sat up. She shook the snow off her face and then turned to look at the trees. The perfect one she'd wanted was ruined. It was all bent over and smashed to one side 'cause of the other tree layin' on top of it. Laura's eyes went to funny lookin' shadow on the snow. It took her a second to recognize it as Pa's axe.

But where was Pa?

Laura rose to her feet and called out, "Pa?"

The wind answered her and a hawk wheelin' over head, but nothing and no one else.

She took a step and tried again. "Pa?"

Nothing.

The snow was still falling and the breeze that struck her was bitter. It chafed her cheeks and brought tears to her eyes. That's why she was crying. Not because she was afraid something had happened to her pa – and all on account of her and that stupid tree – but because of the wind.

Another step. "Pa?"

"...Half-pint..."

Relief made her giddy. Laura closed her eyes and counted to five to steady herself. Then she opened them and called out again, asking this time, "Pa? Are you okay?" When he didn't reply, the little girl swallowed hard over her fear and moved forward, closer to the mangled trees. It was then she saw him – well, a part of him. Pa's boots were showin'.

The tree the lightning had struck was layin' on top of them.

"Pa!"

All of her fear melted like snow in sunshine when she saw those boots. Dashing forward, Laura reached her pa's side in seconds. The tree'd hit him hard enough he was just about buried in the snow. The splintered portion of the trunk was layin' on top of his legs. It was only as she reached him that she realized one of his boots was turned sideways at a funny angle.

All she could figure was that it must have come off when the tree hit him.

Sizing up the tree and the mess it had made comin' down, Laura tried to figure out how to get around it. Finally, she spotted an open space where she could wind her way through and get to him. Snow fell from the tree's broken branches as she did, coating her shoulders and working its way down into her coat, but she didn't care. Laura kept going until she reached her pa. Kneeling by him, she took his hand in hers.

"Oh, Pa!" she exclaimed. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have made you try to cut down that stupid old tree! Are you okay?"

Her father was pale and he was breathing hard. His skin was shining, like he as sweatin'. Still, he managed a smile.

""It's not your...fault, Half-pint. I thought I could...do it." Pa cast a glance along the busted tree and then at his legs. "And it ain't the tree that's...stupid, it's...me."

Laura's gaze followed his. She winced at what she saw. Pa's boot hadn't come off. It was his leg that was turned all funny.

"Pa...is something...wrong with your leg?"

He sucked in air as he tried to shift and sit up, and then gave up and lay back in the snow. "I'm afraid so. I think it's broken."

"Oh, Pa..."

Pa closed his eyes for a second, like he was gatherin' up strength, then he looked at her and asked, "Can you..do somethin' for me, Half-pint?"

She nodded. " _Anything_ , Pa."

"I need you to see if you can get the tree off my legs."

She looked at the splintered trunk, still half-stuck to the other part of the tree, and at the branches comin' out of it. "Won't that hurt?" she asked, her voice hushed with fear.

"It might," he replied with a little wince, "but no more than it hurts now with it layin' on them."

Laura's eyes teared up. "Pa, I'm so – "

Her father's grip on her fingers tightened. "Laura, whether or not you got any blame in this, it doesn't matter now. What matters now is gettin' that tree off so you and I can get home." Pa's gaze went to the sky. "The snow's comin' down heavier and it's gonna be dark soon."

She lifted her face up too. He was right. The light was fading.

"You can do it," he said.

Laura planted her teeth in her lip, thought a moment, and then nodded her head. "Sure I can, Pa. I'll get that old tree off of you and get you home where I can take care of you."

Again, he forced a smile. "Good girl. Now, you move in and take hold of that trunk and then tell me when you're goin' to lift it. All right?"

She nodded again and then moved to his left side. The portion of the tree wasn't really all that big. It was hard with all the little branches, but she managed to get her arms almost all the way around it.

"I'm ready," she told him as she gripped it tightly. "If I lift it up, do you think you can pull your legs out from under it?"

Pa had pulled himself up and was braced on his elbows and hands. He looked practically as white as the snow.

Pa nodded once.

"Are you ready?" she asked.

"Ready...and rarin' to go," he replied with a wink.

Laura drew a breath. She knew what he was doing. Pa was tryin' to be strong for her, but his voice gave him away.

It was shaking.

"On a count of three," she said as she gripped the downed tree tighter. "One. Two. _Three!"_

On 'three' she pulled up. It took all the strength she had, but Laura managed to lift the trunk a couple of inches. She saw her pa shift and heard him grunt, and then – slowly – his legs slipped out from underneath.

Right before it got too heavy and she had to let go.

As the tree fell to the snow-covered forest floor, Laura jumped over it and ran to her pa's side. He'd dragged himself back about three feet, so his boots were free. He was breathin' hard and starin' at the place where he'd been layin' before. She thought there was somethin' funny in that stare and so she looked too. It was getting dark, so it took her a second or two to see it. When she did, Laura's heart sank right down to her toes.

Pa was bleeding.


	2. Chapter 2

TWO

ooooooooooooooooo

Caroline Ingalls paced in front of the window looking out onto their yard. Every other minute she pulled the curtain back and looked outside. The snow was falling, heavier than before. Where it lay on the ground the setting sun painted it the colors of the fire – a pale pink-orange, a middling lavender, and the rich deep blue of midnight. She loved the sunrise and sunset. They put her in mind of God and His majesty. Made her feel humble. Reminded her to be thankful. Any other day she would have been moved by its beauty – remarked on it, in fact.

Tonight, it made her afraid.

Charles and Laura were nearly four hours overdue. Her husband had promised he would be back in time to run her pies to town in the wagon though, in truth, she doubted he could have made it tonight. The snow would be half-way up the wheels and the going would be rough and dangerous. Even if the horses could plow through, there was no way to know what lay beneath. No, he would have had to wait until morning and she kept telling herself that that was what had happened to him and Laura. They had been caught out in the storm and taken shelter – probably in a cave – and wouldn't be home until morning.

She didn't know how she would make it through the night.

Turning away from the window, Caroline looked toward the loft and listened. Mary had taken Carrie up to bed with her. Their youngest had wanted her pa and to distract her, her older sister had offered to read her a book. Mary had all but carried the poor little thing up the ladder. Carrie was still recovering from the fever she'd taken about a week before. She was well on the mend, but her strength still hadn't returned and she was more clingy than usual. With all she had to do for the holiday, both at home and for church, it was about _all_ she could do to keep up with her little girl's needs. Mary had stepped up in a very grown-up way to relieve as much of the burden as she could.

She didn't know what she would do without her.

As she stood there, with her face turned into the room, Mary's head peeked out from the loft.

"Ma? "

"Yes, darling?" she answered, stepping closer.

"Carrie is asking for Pa again. Is he home yet?"

Caroline glanced at the window and the silent fall of snow. "No. He's not."

Mary was frowning. "Didn't he say they'd be back for supper?"

She'd answered that question already, but she understood why Mary was asking. She needed reassurance that everything was all right.

The blonde woman let out a sigh. _She_ needed that reassurance too.

"Yes, he did, dear, but you know how it is. It probably took longer than he thought."

Mary rolled her eyes. "Knowing Laura, she probably took them to the South Dakota border looking for the 'perfect' tree."

"Now, Mary, your sister just wants to find a tree we all will enjoy."

As her eldest pulled back out of sight, she heard her sigh. "She could have found that in the side yard."

Mary was right, of course, but she knew how it was. When you were Laura's age, there was nothing more magical than going out on a cold wintry day to select the largest, fattest, loveliest tree to grace your home. Turning back into the room, Caroline walked over to the table that held the large box Charles had brought out of storage the night before – the one that held all of the Christmas ornaments the girls had made over the years. There was nothing more precious than the small stars, pinecone chimney sweeps, cloth angels, and other treasures it contained. Once Charles and Laura returned home, they would have a grand time of it singing and laughing and dancing and decorating the tree in preparation for the holiday. Doing so had been one of her favorite childhood past-times and it was one of her dearest memories.

She wanted her children to have those memories too.

As she fingered a little ornament covered in glittering false snow, Caroline's eyes returned to the window and the wild wintry world beyond. The snow was feathery and consisted of giant flakes, and that made it grow deep very quickly. Charles had taken the sled along packed with everything he might need in an emergency, including blankets and flint and steel to start a fire in case his matches became soaked. Her husband was a good woodsman. A slight smile curled the blonde woman's lips as she remembered him walking out the door. She had tied his hat on his head and he had given her a smile – and then followed it with a kiss full of longing that held the promise of night of passion. It had been quite a while, what with Carrie sick. She missed him – missed that smile and those kisses and the touch of his hands.

Dropping the ornament back into the box, Caroline crossed the room. She glanced at the window and then opened the door and stepped outside. It was fairly late – near ten o'clock. She had expected silence.

Instead she heard the steady rumble of a wagon's wheels.

Who on Earth would be out in this weather?

As she stood there, waiting, she sensed a presence at her side. Looking back, she saw Mary stepping out of the house.

"Carrie cried herself to sleep," her child said in explanation, and then added, "I saw the wagon coming out the window. Who do you think it is?"

"I have no idea!" Caroline pulled her shawl close about her thin frame. "Whoever it is, their cause must be desperate."

Mary moved in front of her just as the wagon appeared out of the snowfall like a wraith.

"It's Doc Baker!," she exclaimed. "And someone's with him. I think it's Mister Edwards."

Caroline gripped the doorjamb to steady herself. Her heart had plunged to her toes at the mention of Walnut Grove's doctor. "Mary, go put a pot of coffee on," she said. "Those men are going to need it."

Mary's look suggested her daughter thought she had ulterior motives – like getting her out of the way in case the news was bad.

Which, of course, was exactly what she was doing.

"Mary, please. Do as I say."

"Yes, Ma'am," her eldest mumbled, and then disappeared inside.

As the wagon rolled up in front of the house, the driver – who was bundled up like an Arctic explorer – waved a woolen hand. "Howdy, Caroline, and how'd you do?" said Isaiah Edwards cheerfully.

Caroline let out the breath she'd drawn. If Charles or Laura – or both – were in the back of that wagon, there would have been no such joy.

Forcing a smile, she replied, "Whatever are you two doing out in this weather? You'll catch your death."

The big mountain man landed on the ground with a thud. He glanced at Doc Baker, who was climbing out, and then turned back to her. "All I can say is, I guess I got the best companion in case somethin' comes callin'," he laughed. "Actually, I was in town and the Doc here needed to get out to the Smiths' lickety-split. That there baby of Emily's didn't pay no nevermind to the weather."

This time the smile was genuine. Emily had lost a baby the year before. "Mother and baby are both all right?" she asked.

"Right as rain and pretty as a picture hangin' in a baw..." Isaiah caught himself. "In a museum."

"And I suppose you have been in a lot of museums," she said, her lips twisted wryly.

"Sure enough have." Isaiah pulled himself up to his full height and adopted a high-brow accent. "How do you think I got to be this cultured?"

"Caroline," Doctor Baker said, rubbing his hands together as he came to her side. "While my companion finds this weather invigorating, I for one would prefer a nice warm summer's day."

"Well, I don't have that," she said, "but I do have a warm fire and Mary just put on a pot of coffee."

"That Charles, he's a lucky man, having a pretty lady like you to look out for him," Isaiah said. "Nothin' a man likes more when he comes in from doin' chores than a fresh pot of coffee!"

Her smile turned to frown. "It's not for Charles. He's...he's not home."

"Not home?" Hiram asked. "I know that fall from the tree scrambled his marbles a little bit," he said with a wink, "but I'd think he'd be wise enough to know to come in out of the snow."

The blonde woman reached up to brush a large snowflake from her eyelashes. "Why don't we go inside where it's warm. I can tell you about it then."

"Hi, Mister Edwards," Mary greeted as they entered. "Hello, Doctor Baker. "

"Well, hello, Mary," Hiram replied. "Your mother says you have a nice pot of steaming hot coffee for us."

"Sure do," she beamed. "It'll be ready in just a minute. I'll get the cups."

"Thank you, Mary." The doctor took a seat at the table and gingerly pulled his gloves from his fingers. He inspected then and then said, almost to himself. "No frost nip."

"It's colder than a well digger's toes out there!" Isaiah proclaimed as he stepped over to the fire. A moment later he winced. "Sorry, I hope I didn't wake no one. Are Laura and Carrie asleep?"

"Carrie is," she replied. "Laura...is with her father."

Hiram must have sensed something in her voice. "Where are they?"

Caroline drew in a breath and then collapsed in a heap on one of the chairs. "I don't know! Charles and Laura went out to get a Christmas tree around two this afternoon. "

Isaiah had been warming his hands. He turned to look at her. "And they ain't back yet?"

She shook her head. "He said they would be in time for supper ."

The mountain man and the doctor exchanged a glance.

"What? What?" she demanded.

"It's nothing, Caroline," Hiram assured her. "We don't know anything. It's just that it's cold – and getting colder – outside."

"Maybe I ought to go look for them," Isaiah said.

"Oh, no," she protested meekly. "You know Charles. He'll be upset if he thinks you two think he can't look out for himself."

Hiram reached across the table and took her hand. He waited for her to meet his gaze. With a smile, he asked, "Do you think he _can_ take care of himself?"

It was Laura being with him that had her worried – mostly. Charles was perfectly capable of surviving in the wilderness, but if something had happened to Laura or, worse, if something had happened to Charles and he had to think of Laura and not himself...

She struggled for words. The only ones that came out were the ones she'd said before. "I don't know."

Isaiah had come to the table. He looked right at her. "If Charles was thinkin' of bein' home in time for supper – and they had to find and chop down a tree – he can't have gone very far. Maybe a mile or two."

"Isaiah, it's not safe for you – or the doctor either." Again, her gaze went to the window. "It's dark."

The mountain man gave her one of his looks – the kind that made the children giggle. "Now you look here, Missus Ingalls..." He held out his hands and twirled in a circle. "I'm all dressed up with nowhere to go! You're just puttin' a purpose to all these pounds!"

She couldn't help but smile. "Well, I...guess. It shouldn't be too far."

"Does Charles have any special stands of trees that he likes?" Hiram asked. "It's likely he'd head somewhere familiar."

They did have a place where they often went for Christmas trees. It was about a mile down the road.

"By the bend in the river. You know, the place that has the tumble of boulders that look like a rocking horse?"

Isaiah tapped his nose. "I know just the place!"

She knew it as well, but she wasn't sure she could find it in the driving snow. But then again, this was the man who had forded a river in a blizzard – in his Long John's – to bring her little girls Christmas presents when they lived in Kansas.

Tears of gratitude welled in her eyes. "I hate to make you..." Doctor Baker was rising. "Hiram, where are you going?"

"I think I will tag along with Isaiah just in case. Now, Caroline," he said at her look, "you know as well as I do that an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure."

"What about your coffee?" Mary asked. She was standing next to the table with the steaming pot and two cups in hand.

The doctor looked at her. "Do you have anything we can use to take it with us? It might do Charles and Laura good if they've been out in this weather for several hours. ...Caroline?"

Her mind had drifted. The year before one of their farm animals had gotten out of its pen and wandered away on a winter's night cold as this one. They had found it frozen when the snow thawed – and not _until_ the snow thawed.

Doctor Baker's hand came down on her shoulder. Hiram's face wore a gentle smile. "Have faith, Caroline. God is not blind in a snowstorm. He is always watching."

Five minutes later, the two men – and the coffee – were out the door. Hiram had taken it along with the bottle of whiskey they kept locked in a cabinet for medicinal purposes, as well as several linen sheets that could be used to make bandages, should the need arise. Both men assured her that the most likely outcome of their search would be that they would find Laura and Charles hunkered down in one of the caves near the rocking horse, telling Christmas stories and drinking melted snow.

She wasn't so sure. Something in her – some inner sense – told her something was wrong. Mary felt it too, for as the two men went out in to the wintry night, her eldest had come to her side and silently slipped her arm around her waist.

"What can we do, Ma?" she'd asked.

And she had answered, the only way she could.

"Pray."


	3. Chapter 3

THREE

oooooooooooooooooo

It was a warm summer day with a warm summer breeze. The fish were jumping for joy in the creek and there was a whole passel of pretty birds wheelin' overhead, singin' their hearts out. They were shoutin' out 'hallelujahs' Pa said as he sat on a rock and rolled his pants' legs up. Pa had one eye on the water as he said it. They were gonna go wadin'. The water wasn't deep enough to swim in, but the summer rains had caused the creek to rise and it was gonna be so much fun walkin' through it, feelin' all the things on its bottom with their bare toes and guessin' what they were.

"You about ready, Half-pint?" Pa asked. He was grinnin'. They'd made a bet which one of them could reach the creek first – it was about fifty feet away – and Pa was sure he was gonna win it. Whoever lost had to bait the hooks when they went fishing.

And she sure as shootin' didn't want to do that!

"Sure, I'm ready," Laura replied as she peeled her stubborn sock off her foot. The other one was already bare.

Pa dropped down into a racer's crouch. He looked at her and grinned. "On a count of one...two...three!"

And they were off. Pa was ahead of her 'cause of his long legs, but then he sort of stumbled and she moved ahead of him. Tongue in teeth and her arms and legs pumpin', Laura ran full-tilt for the water wantin' more than _anything_ to be the first one in.

Well, not more than 'anything'. She would have lost and been happy if winnin' meant her pa wasn't with her.

As she reached the creek and plunged in, the little girl gave a victory whoop. Next she was gonna throw her hands up into the air and declare herself the winner. She knew what Pa would do when he saw her. He'd look all sad and then act like he was mad, and then smile, and then – and _then_ – start giggling, just like a girl. She loved that about her pa. She loved that giggle.

She loved her pa.

As she turned back toward the shore, she looked for him, but her pa wasn't there. She was all alone and, all of a sudden, the day grew dark and cold. A bitter wind came up, blowing her hair so hard it flung it against her cheeks so it stung. She took a step forward. She had to find her pa. Where was he? What was he doing? Why wasn't he where he was supposed to be? As she continued on, Laura realized she was movin' slow like she was walkin' through molasses instead of water. Suddenly she realized the water was freezing over – and freezing over _so_ fast she was gonna be trapped in it! Terrified, she bent over and took hold of her foot and began to pull. As she did, her gaze went to the iced up surface of the water.

Pa was laying under it.

Laura's eyes popped open. It was all she could do not to scream the dream was so real. Only the fact that she was pressed up against her pa and holdin' onto him and she could feel his heart beating kept her from doin' it. Closing her eyes, she shifted so she had hold of his shirt and hugged him even tighter. Pa smelled of sweat and fever and blood, but it was just about the best stink she had ever smelled. Doc Baker had told her one time that a man couldn't bleed after he was dead. Laura lifted up and looked over her pa's shoulder at the bandage wound around his twisted leg.

Yep. It was still bleeding.

Anger burned in her as she settled back in. That stupid old tree! Not the one she wanted, but the one that broke in half. How come it had to come down and land on pa's legs? The bone in the left one had broken just below the knee and gone through the skin, which was why he had a fever. Once they'd made it to the cave, he'd told her to get a good fire going so she could melt some snow and clean out the wound. She'd done it as best she could, but it probably wasn't good enough. Laura sucked in a breath and held it as she fought back tears. Ma was gonna kill her! She'd torn her best petticoat into strips so she could bind it. Pa told her to be careful, and then he had her go out of the cave to look for two branches about the length of her arm. He told her to put one to either side of his leg and to wind the leftover strips around them in order to keep his leg as straight and as still as could be. She knew from other times that the bone needed to be set and the sooner the better. But there was no way she could do it. She was just a little girl and she wasn't strong enough.

Laura sighed. No, she was just _stupid_ enough to cause him to need it in the first place.

Lifting her body up, Laura looked at her pa's face. His eyes were closed. She hoped he was sleepin', but she didn't know for sure. He might have been out cold. Turning, Laura looked at the cave mouth. The snow had finally stopped, but the wind was pushin' around what had already fallen.

Pa kept drifting, just like that snow.

Letting go of his shirt, Laura backed away and then rose to her feet and went to the fire. Kneeling next to it, she added a few branches and watched for a minute or two to make sure they caught. Pa's matches had been wet since they were in his pocket, but she'd found the flint and steel in his pack on the sled and used them to get it going. 'Thank God for that sled', Pa'd told her after they reached the cave. He knew they couldn't stay in the snow all night, so he'd tried using his good leg and kind of hoppin' in order to start out, but he couldn't do it. He just got tired real quick and fell down. Without that sled she would have had to leave him lying there and gone home for help – and then found her way back to him with the snow shiftin' all over the place and coverin' her tracks. With her help she got him on the sled. Laura blew out a breath that sent her brown bangs flying. It was probably a good thing he passed out after he laid down on it, 'cause if he'd seen what she had to do to get it movin', he would have stopped her. She was sweatin' and huffin' and puffin' 'fore they were a hundred steps into it.

Pa woke up just as they got to the rocking horse. With her help, he walked – well, hopped inside. Laura's gaze went back to her pa and then to the opened sack layin' beside him. Since he was used to travelin' in the snow, Pa'd thought of just about everything. They had a little food and some coffee and blankets and the fire, so they'd be okay for a while. Pa said they just had to hunker down and wait for someone found them.

Laura twisted her lips as she looked at him again. Pa was pretty sick. He'd real upset when he woke up that second time. She'd tried to talk to him, but he didn't hear her. He just kept sayin' how he didn't know what he was gonna do since he had a broken leg and you couldn't work with a broken leg. He asked her ma – who wasn't there – how was he gonna pay for Christmas? Part of the money'd have to go to Doc Baker, he said, and the rest of it for expenses. The little girl sniffed and ran a finger under her nose. Pa'd been out of his head with fever, she knew that. Otherwise he wouldn't have gone and said things like that made her feel like she was about an inch tall and good for nothin'.

She had to face up to it. She'd ruined Christmas for all of them.

And just 'cause she had to have that stupid tree.

Laura pulled her knees up, circled them with her arms, and laid her head on them. She could just see her ma when they got home. Ma'd stand there with her hands on her hips and that 'look' on her face that said she was tryin' not to say anything to hurt her feelings. And then – and this was worse – she'd just sigh.

That sigh was _more_ than enough.

"Laura...?"

Laura's head came up. She was at his side in an instant.

Taking her pa's hand in one of hers, she used the other to brush the soaked curls off his forehead and help him sit up with his back against the wall. "How are you feelin'?" she asked as he settled in.

Pa gave her a one-sided smile that didn't quite hide the pain he was feelin'. "I'm okay, Half-pint. Don't you...worry about me. I've broke bones before."

He had. Laura drew in a breath at the memory. She could see him, all bound up with linen strips from his chin to his waist 'cause of he broke four of his ribs fallin' out of that tree. But she'd never seen him with a bone sticking...out through the skin.

"Are you okay?"

She was gonna say 'yes', but instead the tears started to flow. "Oh...Pa! I'm so sorry! I've ruined Christmas for everyone! And all 'cause I had to have that stupid old tree."

Her father was looking at her. "How have you ruined Christmas?"

She felt a little guilty, like she'd been listenin' in when she wasn't supposed to. Laura shrugged. "I know you're worried about payin' for the doctor and...other things."

Pa frowned. "How? Oh..." He gave a little snort. "I guess I was talkin' in my sleep?"

"Sort of."

He nodded, understanding. Then he reached out toward her. "Come and sit beside me."

She looked at his leg. There was even more red on the bandages. Laura shook her head. "I gotta take care of your leg, Pa. It's bleeding."

"Well, neither me or my leg is goin' anywhere for a while. You can do that later." He patted the cave floor beside him. "Now, come here."

She didn't feel like she deserved it, snugglin' up against him when he was awake. After all, _she_ was the one who hurt him.

"How come?" she asked.

Pa actually looked hurt. He hesitated a second and then said, as if it was the simplest truth in the world. "Because I love you."

 _That_ started the tears flowing again.

"How _can_ you...after what I did?" she blurted out.

He held his hand out again and this time she took it. Pa pulled her down beside him and then circled her waist with his arm. "Half-pint – Laura – the truth is, we all make mistakes. You made one when you insisted on that one certain tree, and I made one when I agreed to cut it down."

"You just did that 'cause I wanted it so bad," she insisted softly.

Pa was silent for a moment. "I guess I did. But do you know _why_ I did?"

That was a hard one. She worked it over for a good thirty seconds before saying, "No. I don't."

Her father shifted and drew her in closer. Pressed against his body, she could feel the heat comin' off of him and it scared her. Suddenly, she threw her other arm around his front and squeezed him tight and said what was in her heart.

"Pa, I don't want you to die!"

There was another moment of silence. "Is that what you think is gonna happen?" he asked at last.

She nodded her head against his chest.

"Half-pint, all I did was break my leg," he said as his hand landed on her hair. "I got some fever goin' 'cause it came through the skin, but once the doc looks at it, I'll be fine."

Her grip on his shirt was fierce. "How can you be sure?"

"Well, I can't completely, but I'm pretty sure." Pa paused. "Now, come on. Don't you think I'm gonna let you get by."

She looked up at him. "Get by with what?"

"Not answerin' my question."

Laura thought back. She'd said he'd cut the tree down just for her even though he knew it was dangerous, and he'd asked her if she knew why he did that.

The little girl chewed her lip for a moment before replying. "Because you love me?"

His hand moved to her cheek. "Because I love you and want to make you happy. And I knew gettin' that special tree would do just that. So – even though I knew I shouldn't have done it – I did."

Laura tilted her head, letting his word slide from one side of her brain to the other. When they'd settled, she said, "So...that's kind of like me makin' you keep a promise even when I knew I shouldn't have?"

Pa nodded. "If there's any blame, I think you and I ought to share it. Don't you?"

"Yes, sir," she answered. Then another thought made her frown.

"What is it?" her father asked.

"How come God let it happen? I mean, that old tree falling..." She sucked in a breath . "You could've died."

"Or you could have," Pa said.

She hadn't thought of that. "Thanks for saving me, Pa," she said quietly.

"You know, Half-pint, our lives are like taking a long walk in the woods. You start out at home and then enter the forest. There's al kind of things in there can make you stumble and maybe fall. Things that can hurt you, or even kill you. But at the same time there's the sky and the grass and the flowers and the wind whistlin' through the leaves and you know what's at the end?"

She shook her head.

"Home. Another home. The real one." He smiled. "The one where we get to walk through the garden with God."

"Well, if this isn't a pretty picture. What do you say, Isaiah? You think they'll ask us to stay for tea?"

It was so sudden, Laura wasn't sure it was real – that was until Mister Edwards came into the cave and picked her up and gave her a great big old cold and snowy bear hug.

"Mister Edwards!" she exclaimed as she threw her arms around his neck. "You came! I was prayin' you would!" She pivoted in his arms to look at her pa. "You gotta help Pa. He's hurt!"

Mister Edward was a big man and his arms all but swallowed her. "I can see that, Half-pint," he said. "Doc will look after him."

"How'd you find us?" she asked. "You can't have seen any footprints."

"Well, now, young lady," he replied, "a sled that size has got a _mighty_ big foot. We saw the runner tracks and followed them. 'Sides, your ma said you'd probably be here."

Ma. The word held _everything_ in it she wanted – love, security, help _and_ hope. Looking over her shoulder at Misted Edwards' shoulder again at her pa, she saw Doc Martin kneeling and examining his leg. "Pa's been real sick," she whispered. "The bone came through the skin and he's got a fever."

She felt him tense, but when the mountain man spoke, his tone was bright and jolly. "Now, don't you worry none, Laura. A fever can be a good thing. Least that's what Doc always tells me!" he added with a wink. "We brought us a wagon and, once the doc' done, we'll get your pa settled all comfy and cozy in the back and take the two of you home faster than you can say jumpin' Jack Robinson!" He gave her a little squeeze. "How's that sound?"

She'd been holding herself together. But now help was here. As Laura tore her eyes away from her pa and Doctor Martin, she shuddered and the tears began to flow.

Circling Mister Edwards' neck with her arms, She pressed her cheek into his whiskers and whispered, "I prayed and I prayed someone would come and you're here! You and Doctor Baker are really here! It's like a miracle!"

The mountain man didn't answer for a second, and when he did his voice choked, "Well, Half-pint, you know what they say. Christmas is a time for miracles."


	4. Chapter 4

FOUR

ooooooooooooooo

Caroline Ingalls stopped in the short hall outside of the bedroom she shared with her husband and sucked in a breath, fighting with her temper. It had been a day since Charles and Laura had been brought home by Doctor Baker and Isaiah and she was next to out of her mind! Her mother had warned her that men made terrible patients and she'd learned how true that was in the years since she had married.

But today took the cake!

Holding the breath, she counted to ten and reminded herself to be thankful that she _had_ a husband to be angry with at all. Charles could easily have died if God hadn't sent the doctor and their friend to the house when He did. The break was a compound fracture, with the tibia poking through the skin. Hiram had set it, but the nature of the injury had occasioned additional treatment and he had had to pull the lower fragment away from the upper as well, which had been very painful. Doctor Baker had chosen to cast the injury, applying plaster of Paris powder to the bandages after he wet them. He thought it best to keep Charles' leg as immobile as possible. There was some infection, though Hiram assured her it was nothing to worry about. The fever would abate in a few days – if Charles did as instructed and stayed in bed. Unfortunately, the stress of the accident had also brought on a mild case of what Carrie had, so her obstinate husband was coughing and sneezing and, well, fit to be tied. Caroline ran a hand along her forehead and then through her hair.

If only she _had_ that much rope...

Letting the breath out, she continued down the hallway. She knew, of course, what she would find when she entered the room and that was what she found – Charles, sitting on the edge of the bed – with his injured leg hanging down just like the doctor said it shouldn't be –pulling on his shirt. When she saw him struggling, her anger faded. He looked like a willful little boy with his brown curls dangling down before his eyes and a weary but determined look on his face.

"I would ask what you're doing, but I can see plain enough," she said with a sigh.

He looked up abruptly. Apparently he hadn't known she was there.

"Caroline," Charles said in that way he had, like she was a little girl who wasn't old enough to understand, "I can't lay here. There's work to do."

"And you won't be able to do it in the future if you reinjure your leg and end up with a limp, or the ague takes hold and lays you low," she replied, using 'her' tone that sounded like a school teacher talking to a recalcitrant student. "You know Doctor Baker told you to rest and keep that leg up for at least two days."

He stopped with his shirt half on and half off. "Doc Baker gets paid for tellin' people what to do. I don't. I need to work."

She'd used a good third of their Christmas savings to pay the doctor, and another third of it for food and necessities. Charles had intended to head into town the day after the accident to buy supplies. They were very low. That left a few dollars and both he and she knew the rest of it would have to go to pay for everyday expenses.

There would be nothing extra for Christmas this year.

"Charles," she said and waited. When he looked at her, she went on. "I know what you're thinking and we don't need presents. I have enough for the girls' stockings between what we've already picked up and the things I've made. Besides, that's not what Christmas is about. It's about Christ first and then, family." She drew in a deep breath as she stared at him, thinking again how close she had come to losing him. "My present this year is that both you and Laura are alive."

He was staring back, a dogged look on his face. Then, suddenly it softened. "How is Half-pint?" he asked. "I haven't seen her today."

There were wounds like the break in her husband's leg, and then there were _other_ wounds. "She's doing her chores." Caroline hesitated. "And most of yours."

"What? She's too small for –"

He was trying to rise. Crossing over to him, the blonde woman put a hand on his shoulder and forced him back to the bed. "Charles, she's making recompense in the only way she knows how. You have to let her."

"Recompense?" he frowned. "You got a five dollar word for that, school teacher?"

Caroline laughed. "She's making up for what she did."

He shook his head. "Laura didn't do anything. I was the mule-headed one should have known better."

She reached out and ran a hand through the tangle of curls on his forehead, brushing them back, and then took a seat on the bed beside him, her thoughts turning to that terrible night when she and Mary had kept a vigil by the fire, neither one of them daring to go to their beds and sleep. Hiram and Isaiah had pulled away in the wagon at approximately eleven o'clock. At four in the morning a strident rap on the door brought them both out of the restive slumber they had fallen into sitting upright in chairs. Isaiah had been the first through the door. He was carrying Laura and she'd feared the worst, but a smile and a shake of his head had assured her that her daughter was all right. Moving past her, he went to Carrie's bed – which was the closest – and placed her middle child in it. Laura had been exhausted and hadn't awakened when Isaiah laid her down. Next came Doctor Baker with Charles. Her husband was pale and breathing hard; his cheeks bright red with both the cold and a rising fever. All four were soaked through from the snow. While Mary checked on her sister, she'd slipped in on her husband's other side and aided Hiram in getting Charles to their bed. The blood-soaked binding on his leg had frightened her, but the doctor assured her it was a clean break and would be easily mended in time.

And then he had ordered Charles off his feet.

Reaching out, she took her husband's hand in her own. "You and I may know that Laura didn't do anything wrong, but she feels differently. And, in a way, I understand. You told her the tree was not the best one to choose and she made you feel guilty so you would do what she wanted."

He thought a moment and then grinned. "I guess she was bein' a mite ornery."

Caroline laughed. "A mite. Just like her father. Although _you_ are at least three mites!"

Charles was silent for a moment. "Caroline, I..." he began.

"Say it," she encouraged softly.

He blew out a sigh. "I feel like a failure."

"Oh, Charles!" She hugged him. "You are anything but!"

He pursed his lips as he gave a little shrug. "I can't provide for you and the girls."

"Nonsense. We have a roof over our heads, food for our stomachs, and more love than most."

"I know, but..." He looked at her, those green eyes of his _so_ sincere. "...I want you to have, well, the little extra things that make life easier."

"I know you do," she said, leaning into his shoulder. "But we don't need them."

"It's not about need, Caroline, that's what I mean. " He snorted. "Or maybe it is – I _need_ to show you all what you mean to me, especially at Christmas." Her husband looked down at the cast firmly fixed on his leg. "It'll be all I can do to milk the cow with this thing on, let alone work at carpentry or in the fields."

"Charles, you have nothing to prove. We all know how much you love us." She paused. "Although, I think maybe Laura needs some reassurance."

He began to put on his shirt again. "I'll just go out to the barn and talk to – "

"Oh, no, you won't!" she said, catching his arm before he could thrust it into the sleeve. "I'll find a reason to send her in here." Caroline held up two fingers. "Two days, Charles. That's what Hiram said. Two days and not one less. Now you lay back down and get your leg up."

Her handsome husband's lips quirked with a smile. "Is that an order, Missus Ingalls?"

"Yes, it is, Mister Ingalls." She shook her head. " _Whatever_ am I going to do with you?"

Without warning, he caught her chin in his fingers and gave her a quick kiss. "Just what you been doin'. Seems to work just fine."

Rising, she waited until he had adjusted his position and then helped Charles swing his injured leg up and onto the bed. As he did, beads of perspiration broke out on his brow.

"Are you in pain?" she asked, concerned.

His dark brown eyebrows danced. "A mite."

"Just one?" she admonished.

"Well, maybe two or so." Charles met her steady, challenging gaze. "I'm all right, Caroline. Really. It's no worse than what I've had before. It's Laura I'm worried about."

She didn't let on, but he had a right to be.

Laura's pain was at least a ten.

oooooooooooooooo

"You don't have to be so grouchy!" Mary declared. "I just asked you if I could get by so I could get a pail."

Laura was standing with a pitchfork in her hands. It was too big for her, but she didn't care. She'd been cleaning out Pat and Patty's stall since her Pa couldn't do it. Just like she'd been doin' all his other chores. It helped with the guilt she was feelin' for causin' his accident.

A little.

"Well, if you can't see that a body is busier than a cow's tail in fly time, then it serves you right for gettin' shouted at!" she replied sharply.

"I told you I'd help," Mary countered.

"I don't need your help!" she snapped as she turned back to her work. "I can do it all by myself."

"Look, Laura, I understand that you feel responsible for Pa being laid up, but –"

Her little form went rigid. She pitched the tool to the floor. "I _am_ responsible! Can't you and everybody else get that through your thick heads!?" She pointed to her chest. "It's because of me! It's because of me that Pa can't work and Ma has too much to do and nobody is going to get any presents for Christmas 'cause all of the Christmas money is gonna have to go for food and bills!" She was breathing hard. Tears streaked down her cheeks. "Carrie ain't old enough, but I know you hate me for it and so do Ma and...Pa!"

"Laura."

Her mother's voice froze her to the spot. Laura looked at Mary, who had a stunned expression on her face, and then lowered her head to look at the tool lying on the floor.

"Mary," their mother said as she came into the barn, "will you go check on your father and make sure he's still in bed?"

Her sister shot her a look and then nodded her head. "Yes, Ma'am."

Ma watched her go before turning back to her. "Laura?"

She had to look up. "Yes, Ma'am?"

Her mother held her hand out. "Please, come over here and sit with me."

Ma didn't sound mad, just kind of...sad. Doing as she was told, the little girl took the older woman's hand and followed her over to a hay bale. As they sat, her mother's gaze went to the abandoned pitch fork.

"You've been working very hard," Ma said, which was not what she'd expected.

"Yes, Ma'am, I have. There's... Well, there's things need done and Pa can't do them 'cause of –."

"Because of you?"

She nodded.

Her mother circled her shoulders with her arm. "Laura, I am not going to diminish your efforts to make things right by telling you not to work so hard."

"You're not?"

Ma hesitated a second, as if seeking the right words. "No. I understand how you feel. Even though your father and I, and your sisters, don't hold you responsible for what happened to your pa, I know _you_ do."

Laura let out a sigh. "Yes, Ma'am, I _sure_ do."

"Can you tell me why?" she asked softly.

The question surprised her. She had to think a minute about how to answer it. "Well, Ma'am, it's not so much that Pa got hurt, I guess, though that's a part of it. It's _why_ he got hurt.

"Which was?"

"On account of I made him feel like he didn't love me if he didn't get me that tree I wanted."

There, it was out.

"Ah, I see." Her mother paused. "Do you really think that?"

A tear escaped and rolled down her cheek. "No, Ma'am. I know Pa loves me just like I love him. It doesn't matter about that old tree."

"And have you told your father this?"

Laura's chin hung down to her chest. "I can't."

"You 'can't'? And why is that?"

"On...on account of I'm ashamed! Ma, I was so mean." She met her mother's eyes and saw no anger in them, only sympathy. "I hurt Pa's feelin's just as much as I hurt his leg."

"I see. And when you have your feelings hurt, what is it you would want the person who hurt them to do?"

She thought a second. Her nose wrinkled as she replied, "Apologize?"

Her mother squeezed her hand. "Then don't you think, instead of working yourself to the bone and growing angry with all of us, that it would be best if you went and talked to your pa?"

Laura's jaw tightened. "Yes, Ma'am."

Her mother's finger traced her lips. "And you might try wearing a smile while you do it. A scowl is a sorry way to begin."

Nodding again, she forced a smile.

And then she went into the house.

oooooooooooooooo

Charles was sitting with his back against the headboard and a book in his hand. He'd been reading but had to close his eyes to rest them and deal with the pounding, pulsing pain in his leg. He'd had fractures before, but this was the worst one with the bone coming through the skin. It was gonna take a long time to heal and he had no idea how they were going to survive with him off of work. It was the middle of winter and he was laid off from the mill anyway, but he had carpentry work to do for some of the wealthier inhabitants of the area, including Mrs. Mulvaney. The last time he'd been to town the older woman had caught him and ordered a fine cherry wood cabinet with glass inserts to house her collections. He'd sent a note in via Isaiah the day before, asking him to telegraph the contents to Mrs. Mulvaney to let her know that it would be a while before he could get it finished. He just hoped she didn't cancel the order. There were plenty of carpenters in Sleepy Eye. He'd wondered at the time why she went with him, but been glad that she did. It had seemed a God-send.

Now, he wondered if he had overestimated God.

"Pa?"

The voice was hesitant, unsure.

Opening his eyes, Charles looked at the bedraggled and browbeaten figure standing before him. "Hey there, Half-pint. Where have you been?"

Laura came into the room, but stopped at the end of the bed. "I been workin', Pa, takin' care of the animals."

He nodded. "Thank you for that."

She gave him a puzzled look. "You don't need to thank me, Pa. It's my fault you're lyin' here and can't do what you need to."

Charles hesitated. He knew that, sometimes, you just couldn't feel right until you made a thing 'right', at least in your own mind. His impulse was to tell her again that it wasn't her fault, but then, he knew the child standing in front of him was a _lot_ like him.

"Laura, come here and sit beside me," he said, patting the bed.

She blinked and then did as he said, climbing onto the bed and sitting at his side. Once she was in place, he watched her eyes go to his leg.

"Pretty thing, isn't it?" he asked with a grin.

Carrie had taken a couple of pieces of colored chalk to his cast. Looking back at them from the rough linen surface was a little Christmas angel – sort of. Its green wings and body were triangles and its head a circle five times too big. Strands of red chalk hair stuck straight out from the circle, colliding with the tips of the triangles.

"I think Carrie needs some art lessons," she replied, her lip twisting with a smile.

"Oh, I don't know. For a five year old, I think it's mighty good." Charles shifted and failed to hide the wince as he did.

"You're hurting, aren't you, Pa?"

"A little bit." He grinned. "But then, I got a broken leg."

"Cause of me," his child sighed.

"And 'cause of _me_ , don't you forget that."

"But Pa..."

He paused, looking at her and thinking what he could say. Finally, it came to him. "You remember the story in the Bible, of Jacob and Esau?"

Laura scrunched her nose up in puzzlement. "Sure, I do..."

"Jacob wanted somethin' he shouldn't have wanted, didn't he?"

She nodded. "His brother's birthright. The Reverend Alden says Jacob was a 'character'."

He snorted. That was putting it mildly! "What about Esau?"

"Well, sir, he was the one that was done wrong."

"But Esau did wrong too." Charles held her gaze. "He sold his birthright for a bowl of soup 'cause he thought he had to have it."

Laura was thinking. He could see the wheels turning behind her hazel eyes. A moment later, a light entered them and she smiled. "I guess you're right, Pa. They both done wrong."

"So, you see, it's kind of like that with you and me. We both made bad choices."

"But Pa..." Laura shifted and straightened up. "Pa, I'm sorry I made you think that I would think you didn't love me if you didn't get me that tree."

He looked right at her. "I never thought that, Half-pint. I wanted to get you that tree because it meant so much to you – just like _you_ mean so much to me."

His child sucked in a breath and held it, and then flung her arms around him – sending ripples of pain down his leg which, since her head was buried against his chest, thankfully she didn't note as it registered on his face.

"Oh, Pa, I love you _so_ much!" she cried.

His hand went to her head. "I know you do, darlin'. Don't you _ever_ doubt it." Charles drew in a breath as he eased her off to one side. "Now, how about you go out and help your ma get ready for tomorrow?"

Tomorrow was Christmas day. It was going to be a lean one, but he'd made up his mind to make the best of it he could.

"Do you think you're gonna be able to play the fiddle tonight, Pa?"

Isaiah had brought them a tree. It was their tradition to decorate it on Christmas eve and to dance and sing while doing so.

"My arms ain't broke, just my leg," he said with a wink. Then he added, "Just one more thing."

She looked wary. "What's that, Pa?"

He held out his hand. "Apology accepted." When he took it and shook it, he added, "And that's the end of it. You forget all about what you did or did not do and you enjoy tonight, you hear?"

Laura stared at him and then dove for a quick kiss before climbing off the bed.

"Yes, sir!" she said as she headed back into the common room.

And meant it.


	5. Chapter 5

FIVE

oooooooooooooooo

Caroline glanced at Charles. He was surrounded by three girls who were doing their best to take care of him and not let him do too much when they were, in fact, wearing him out with their constant fussing and questions. A moment ago she'd watched Mary bring him a pillow for his back and then seen Laura pull it out because she thought it put his leg at an odd angle.

Poor man!

When he'd caught her eye, her husband had managed a weary smile and a quick roll of his eyes – so quick the girls missed it. They'd been at it for several hours; the children decorating the tree under their father's watchful eye while she finished up supper. Now, as the turkey cooked that last half hour to golden perfection and the potatoes reached the ideal point, it was time to settle down and listen to the Christmas story. They would hear it again tomorrow in church, but it was another tradition of theirs that Charles read the story of Immanuel – God With Us – to them on Christmas eve. She loved the sound of his voice and hearing God's word spoken with such feeling and meaning. These were not just words to him, but the bread of life.

Among other things, that was why she loved him.

"Papa?" she heard Carrie call out. Turning, she noted her youngest was standing by her father's chair. "Can I's sit on your lap?"

Caroline moved to intervene.

"Now Carrie, how can Pa hold the Bible and read if you're on his lap?" she asked cheerfully as she scooped the little girl up and took her to the rocking chair where she firmly planted her on her lap. Charles shot her a look of gratitude as Mary came forward with the well worn tome. She watched him take it and place his hand on the leather cover before opening to the second chapter of Luke.

"And it came to pass in those days," Charles began, "that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be taxed. And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night and lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, 'Fear not, for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord and this shall be a sign unto you, ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger." Her husband paused. She noted his eyes went to his cast where the vision of Carrie's little angel danced in the firelight before he continued. "And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, 'Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men'.

"And this taxing was first made when Cyrenius was governor of Syria, and all went to be taxed, every one into his own city. And Joseph also went up from Galilee, out of the city of Nazareth, into Judaea, unto the city of David, which is called Bethlehem because he was of the house and lineage of David, to be taxed with Mary his espoused wife, being great with child. And so it was, that, while they were there, the days were accomplished that she should be delivered and she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn."

Her husband went on to finish the story, reading up until the shepherds had come and gone. Charles closed the book then and bowed his head and they all did the same, and then he raised his voice in a prayer giving praise and glory to God that He had sent His only Son to Earth for the meek, the humble, and the lowly.

"Amen," she said, and meant it. And then added, "Now, young ladies, I think it's about time you went to bed."

A chorus of 'Ah, ma, do we have to?' greeted her just as she knew it would.

"Yes, you have to," she replied. "How can Christmas come unless you go to sleep?"

"Well, we could just stay up and wait for it," Laura suggested.

"That's silly," Mary replied. "Everyone knows Santa won't come until everyone is asleep." After she said it, Caroline felt her eldest child's gaze move from her to the empty stockings that hung on the hearth. Mary was old enough to understand that Santa would be bringing very little this year due to her father's accident.

"Your sister is right. Now you two go and finish up your chores and then get ready for bed."

"Yes, Ma'am," both girls said. Mary headed for the kitchen to begin tidying up while Laura moved to the front door where her coat was hanging on a peg. She was still doing Charles' chores, though she was letting her sisters help her now.

"I'll be out in a few minutes, Laura," Mary called.

"Ok," her sister shouted back. "I'll leave the yucky jobs for you!"

The washcloth Mary aimed at her sister's head landed on Carrie's instead. The bewildered look the little girl gave them sent them all into gales of laughter.

As soon as Mary left to join Laura in the barn, Carrie – who had been 'helping' her older sister – headed straight for her pa. Charles jolted awake when she touched his leg. He'd fallen asleep shortly after Laura went outside and she'd hesitated to wake him.

"Oh, Charles! I'm sorry, I –"

Carrie was staring at her. Up until that moment she hadn't realized she'd done anything wrong. Now, she was starting to cry.

"Caroline," Charles said, indicating his lap. At her look, he made a face. "How about you help Carrie up? I think I need a hug from one of my favorite girls."

The face she made let him know what she thought about that, but she did as he asked, carefully lifting Carrie and placing her on the side that was uninjured. Instantly she snuggled in and circled him with her little arms.

And began to cry.

"Say, now, what's this?" Charles asked, shooting her a look even as he wrapped his arm around the little girl.

"Is Christmas gonna come, Papa?" she asked through her tears.

Charles shot her a glance. "Well, of course it is, Carrie. Nothing can stop it. Why would you think otherwise?"

Their youngest sniffled as she looked up him, her cherubic face _so_ serious. "Laura said we won't get any presents 'cause we don't have any money."

"Oh, she did, did she?" Charles shifted and she saw him wince, but he moved the little girl so he could look into her eyes. ""Well, let me tell you, Laura is wrong."

Carrie's little lips pursed. "She is?"

Her husband glanced at her, then down at his leg, and then back to his child. "Who is it that you drew on my bandages?"

Carrie looked too. "A Christmas angel, like the one in your story."

"Just like," he said. "And you know what, a Christmas angel isn't like Santa. She doesn't care if you have money or not. The baby Jesus didn't have any money, did he?"

The little girl shook her head.

"But you know what? He got lots of gifts on Christmas day." Charles looked over his child's head at her. "Jesus had a mama to take care of Him and a papa too. He had a warm place to sleep and food to eat."

"And cows and chickens!" Carrie exclaimed. "And maybe a camel?"

"Maybe...a camel, " Charles agreed with a smile. "But for sure sheep and a dog or cat. And you know what else?"

Their child shook her little head. "No...what?"

"The baby Jesus had all the love He could possibly want. That's the kind of gifts a Christmas angel brings, Carrie, love and joy and knowing that you are safe and warm and cared for. You'll have plenty of all of those come mornin'."

Caroline winced as Carrie reared up and threw her arms around her father's neck. Charles held her for a moment and then gave her a look that suggested it would be wise for her to come to the rescue.

"That's quite enough, young lady," the blonde woman said as she plucked the child from her husband's arms. "It's time for you to go to bed so Christmas morning can come."

It took her about five minutes to get Carrie into bed and settled. When she returned, she found Charles was gone. He was using a cane now and had managed to get himself to their bed. When she entered their room, she found him half on and half off it – and nearly half-asleep!

"You look like you could use a few of that Christmas angel's gifts," she said with a smile as she helped him into the bed and adjusted the pillows under his head. "Maybe some peace and quiet?"

He laughed. "Sounds mighty good, Missus Ingalls." As she reached for the lamp to extinguish it, Charles caught her arm. "Have I told you lately that I love you?" he asked.

"Well," she sighed with mock indignation, "it _has_ been a few days."

He pulled her down into a kiss. "I love you."

Caroline laughed. "I love you too. Now get some sleep! Those girls will wear you out come morning."

She'd headed for the door before he spoke again. "You know," he said, his words slurring, "it might be next year before I tell you again. You better come back for another kiss."

The blonde woman turned and went back to the bed. By the time she got there, he was asleep. Reaching out, she ran her fingers through the fringe of curls on his head and sighed.

Charles Ingalls was incorrigible and he was all hers.

And that was the best Christmas present of all.

oooooooooooooooo

Laura hung her head over the edge o the loft floor and looked toward the fireplace. Their stockings were in place and they'd been filled – sort of. Normally, they bulged like the blacksmith's belly over his belt, but this year they looked more like his wife's skinny arms. The little girl let out a little sigh. She just knew that would be what she would find but she'd hoped – well, _prayed_ there might be a little more. She knew she was bein' greedy, but Christmas only came once a year and it was the once-a-year time when they got special things – not things they needed, but things they _wanted._

Christmas was a rare and magical time and she looked forward to it for a _whole_ three hundred and sixty-four days which, when you were eight years old, was an awful long time.

With a small sigh, Laura moved to the ladder and began the short descent to the main floor of their house. It was really early. The cock hadn't even crowed yet, but she was so excited she couldn't sleep. Even if they had skinny old stockings, Christmas day was always special. She knew, even though she shouldn't, that there was at least one candy cane in her stocking and she'd peeked about midnight and seen her ma makin' gingerbread men, so she knew there was one or maybe more of those in there too. Ma had still been bakin' and she'd smelled not only the gingerbread, but pumpkin and mince meat pie. Those were things they had on hand and so, while they weren't as special as maybe a chocolate cake would have been, they were sure somethin' to look forward to!

Today was the day too that they got to let most of their chores go and play games and sing and dance while Pa played his fiddle. Ma had promised to take them caroling later. She said, after they got done eating and lookin' in their stockings, that she would take them in the wagon to the Edwards and into town to sing for Doc Baker and everyone else. Pa usually came with them, but Ma said he'd stay home this year with Carrie because Carrie was still gettin' better. Ma didn't usually lie, but she guessed since it was Christmas Day, it was okay. Ma didn't want her to feel bad 'cause Pa was too tired to go to town.

She did anyhow.

As her feet hit the floorboards and she turned toward the door and her coat, she heard her name. Laura spun to find her ma standing by the stove. Ma's voice had been quiet, so as not to wake up anyone else. She looked kind of puzzled.

Coming to her side, her ma asked, "Laura, what are you doing out of bed so early?"

She shrugged. "I couldn't sleep, so I thought I would get up and get to my chores."

Her mother frowned. "You know you don't need to do most of them today."

"I know, Ma. I ain't gonna do my chores. I'm gonna do Pa's on account of he can't do them yet."

"Laura," she said, "I hope you don't still blame yourself for what happened."

She thought about that – for a full ten seconds. "I sorta do and I sorta don't. If you know what I mean?" And she hoped she did because it was too special a day to start with a lecture.

The older woman's hand landed on her shoulder. "Of course, I do," she said.

Laura let out a relieved puff of air. "If it's okay then, I need to go out and put out some fresh hay for Pat and Patty and make sure their water isn't frozen over."

"Wait a minute," her ma said.

Laura watched her walk to the kitchen, take something out of a basket, and then come back. As she stopped, she held out a small dish of dried apples.

At her look, she explained, "I think Pat and Patty deserve a treat today too, don't you?"

"I sure do, Ma! Thanks."

"You go get your coat and mittens on. It'll be on the table for you when you're ready."

Laura did as she was told. After donning her coat, mittens, and scarf, she returned for the apples. When she did, she was surprised to find her ma standing in the hallway, looking at their room. A sudden fear gripped her.

"Ma?"

Her mother turned and then walked to her side. "What is it, Laura?"

Her gaze went to the hall and the room at its end. "Is Pa...okay?"

"What? Oh, yes. He's just worn out." The older woman's lips curled with a small smile. "This is just between you and me, all right?"

"Sure," she replied.

"Your pa told me to wake him up early and I told him I would and, you know what?"

Laura was grinning. "What?"

Her mother chuckled. "I lied! And on Christmas Day!"

"You're gonna get coal in your stocking for sure," Laura teased.

"Well," the older woman sighed, "I can always use it to heat the house."

They both laughed and her ma hugged her. "Now, go do those chores and then come right back in. You can help me get ready."

"Sure thing, Ma!"

She loved helping her ma. Lots of times it was Mary who got to do that since she was older and knew more about grown-up woman things. But Mary was still asleep and she was awake and this time, it was her turn!

As she moved to the door, the little girl noted how the sun was up and shining through the windows. The snow her Pa had fallen into was still on the ground and about another three inches had been added to it. Only the biggest wagons and the finest buggies could make it through it. They'd be all right 'cause nothin' stopped Pat and Patty, but Laura knew it was a pretty sure bet that no one would come visitin' them anytime soon.

And so, when she opened the door and found a big old sack stuffed full of presents on the front step, she just about fainted.

Turning back into the house, Laura yelled, "Ma! Ma, come quick!"

oooooooooooooooo

Caroline had just grabbed the coffee beans she had roasted on the hearth and the grinder when Laura's startled cry rang out. Dropping both to the surface of the table she rushed to the door and stepped outside, only to halt in wonder at the same thing that had surprised her child.

"What in the world?" she asked.

Laura's eyes were big as saucers. She was standing next to a sack that was nearly as big as she was that was brimful, well, really _over_ the brim with brightly wrapped packages. She watched as her daughter reached out to touch one of the boxes.

Laura turned to look at her. "Ma, it's got your name on it."

The blonde woman moved to look. Sure enough, written in a rather delicate script, there was her name on the top box which was wrapped in shiny blue paper with a gold bow on it.

Caroline blinked. "Does it say who it is from?"

If Laura's eyes had been saucers before, they were dinner plates now.

"It says' 'From your Christmas Angel." Laura shifted the box a bit and peered down into the sack. "The next one is for Mary. And..." Her child's voice was hushed with wonder. She had a box in her hands, wrapped in a paper decorated with angels. Laura looked up at her. "This one's for me."

A sense of something behind her alerted her to the fact that someone was coming. The sound of the third' leg' informed her of who it was.

"Caroline, I heard Laura call. Is everything..." Charles' voice died away as he noted the sack bulging with boxes. He found it a second later. "What's goin' on?"

"I don't know," she told him. "Laura was headed out to the barn when she found the sack sitting here."

"It's full of presents, Pa," their child said and then paused. "Can we keep them?"

They all knew if there was one sin Charles Ingalls suffered from, it was pride. Charles wouldn't take anything from anyone. It was as if 'taking' meant he was not capable of giving. There had been so many times when they had been in need that they had gone without when others would have helped. Still, she understood.

It was part and parcel of the man she loved.

Her handsome husband limped over to the bag and fingered the tag on the top. "Looks like a lady's hand," he said absently.

"It's from our Christmas angel, Pa," Laura said, clearly convinced. "You remember? The one you told Carrie about? It must be her!" Their child spread her arms wide. "She heard you and she brought us all this love!"

Charles was staring at the sack and frowning. He turned to look at her. "You know anything about this, Caroline?"

She shook her head. "No. I am as surprised as you."

Her husband turned and looked down the path before the house. There were no tracks. Nothing gave the appearance that anybody had come and gone. Of course, the snow had fallen overnight.

Still...

"How?" he muttered.

Laura moved to take his hand. "Pa, you told us last night about a miracle. Don't you believe one can happen for real?"

He shook his head. "Half-pint, presents don't just drop out of the sky – "

"Are you _sure_ , Pa?"

Charles looked at her. Caroline almost laughed. He looked totally and completely lost.

"Don't look a gift angel in the mouth?" she asked with a little smile.

At that moment Mary appeared in the doorway. She had Carrie anchored on her hip. "Ma? Pa?" she asked. "What's going on?"

"God knew Pa didn't mean to get hurt and that he had to use his Christmas money to pay bills, so He sent His Christmas angel to bring us presents!" Laura stopped. Her little face was bright as any Christmas light. "Ain't that right, Pa?"

Charles looked at her, and then at Mary and Carrie. All three of them were grinning from ear to ear.

"Can we take the presents inside, Pa?" Laura asked.

"And open them?" Mary added, sounding as young and as anxious as her sister.

She watched him mull it over and give in. "I guess that Christmas angel must have hitched a ride with Santa," he said at last.

"Oh, Pa! Thanks!" Laura shouted as she rushed to give him a hug. Charles' staggered under the onslaught, but managed to keep his feet. "Thanks _so_ much!"

"Give me Carrie," Caroline said. As Mary complied, she added, "You two take the sack inside. Your father and I will be there in a minute."

After the two girls had gone inside, she went to Charles' side and wrapped her arm around his waist. "What do you suppose this is all about?" she asked. "Who would have known the girls wouldn't have much of a Christmas this year?"

He pursed his lips. "Beats me. Maybe it _was_ Santa."

Carrie piped up. "No!" she said.

"No?" Charles asked. "Then who do you think it was, Carrie?"

Their youngest grinned from ear to ear as she pointed to Charles' cast.

"It was my Christmas angel!"


	6. Chapter 6

SIX  
oooooooooooooooo

Whether it was Carrie's Christmas angel or not, they'd never had such a Christmas.

The day was over and the girls were in bed. Caroline was cleaning up in the kitchen. Charles sat in the rocker by the hearth staring at the unexpected gifts that lay strewn across the floor. There had been eight boxes in total – two each for the girls and one for him and one for Caroline. He shook his head in wonder. While he didn't really doubt God, he'd been skeptical of an angel being behind it until he saw what the colorful boxes contained. In their first box Laura and Carrie each got a china doll, and Mary, a special set of books she'd been wanting. The second set of boxes for their girls each contained a scarf, hat, and mittens – all from the Oleson's New York stock. They were the very ones he'd wanted to buy them. Caroline got the same thing plus a winter shawl and he, well, he'd opened his box to find the one carpentry tool he was missing.

God did, indeed, move in mysterious ways.

The injured man's gaze went to the fireplace mantel, which was empty now. He'd been pleased as punch when the girls were just as excited about the simple things their stockings contained – cookies, a peppermint stick, raisins and two pairs of new stockings each that their ma had knitted – as they were with the store-bought goods. Charles' eyes filed with tears.

They were good girls, grateful for any and everything they had.

"Charles, are you all right? Did you over-tire yourself?"

He looked up to find his wife standing over him, a concerned look on her face.

The curly-haired man shook his head. "I'm fine, Caroline. Just givin' thanks for the blessings of our days."

His wife's hand brushed his cheek and then she sat in the chair opposite him. He watched as her gaze went to the multitude of goods. "Who do you think sent them?" she asked.

The item were so precise – exactly what they had needed or wanted – that he had to wonder. Who had he told about any of it? Who could have known?

Charles snorted. "I'm with Carrie. I think it was her Christmas angel."

Caroline looked thoughtful as she sank back in the chair. She paused and then asked, "Are you all right with it?"

It was hard for him. He wanted to provide for his family and not take any help to do it. But, as he sat watching the girls open the unanticipated boxes and saw the joy that it brought them, he told himself it was okay. If not for the wisemen who came bearing gifts, Joseph and Mary wouldn't have been able to take care of the baby Jesus.

God, it seemed, wasn't too proud to accept a little help.

He gave her a shy smile. "You're never to old to learn, I guess."

"Learn what?" his wife asked.

"That in order for someone to give, someone else has to be willin' to receive."

oooooooooooooooo

Winter had come and gone. It had been a long, hard one between him recovering from the accident and the constant snows that fell, cuttin' them off from Walnut Grove and it seemed, at times, the world. Once his leg was healed enough, Charles had begun to work on the cabinet Mrs. Mulvaney had ordered back in the autumn. He'd sent the older woman word via Doc Baker that it would be ready come spring. Hiram had come to call on a fairly regular basis while makin' his rounds to be sure he and everyone else was all right. She'd been about as gracious as could be, tellin' him to take care of himself and not worry about gettin' it done on any kind of schedule.

Which, of course, made him complete it first.

It was spring now. The snows were over and the first flowers were showin' their colors; their bright faces poppin' up through grass not quite green. He wasn't quite fit as a fiddle, but he was on his feet and workin' a normal day and - even though it was painful – spendin' time on his knees thankin' the Lord that he could. They were still in debt, but it wasn't so deep that he thought he couldn't work his way out of it. Looking over his shoulder at the tall, well-built, stately cabinet anchored securely in the back of his wagon – with its shinin' cherry wood and glass front - Charles grinned.

Once he had the bank draft to pay for the work he had done, they'd be all right.

The Widow Mulvaney had a house located between Sleepy Eye and Mankato, though she claimed the former town as her home. She'd come out West after the war ended to stay with a sister who had since passed. She wasn't terribly old – he thought, maybe, in her late fifties or early sixties – but life had been hard and full of loss and she seemed a good bit older than her years. Doctor Baker said she was 'distracted'. Hiram said she'd suffered so and lost so many that she couldn't bear it and so, she pretended that it hadn't happened. The Doc said it wasn't such a bad thing. Human beings found ways to survive and it seemed Margaret Mulvaney had found hers in forgettin' the past and lookin' forward to a bright tomorrow that could never be.

As his wagon rolled into the yard, the door to the elegant manor house opened and the woman who owned it stepped outside. She was dressed as she usually was, in a dark gown that was twenty years old and two sizes too large for the thin wraith of a woman she'd become. Though she wasn't all that old, Margaret's hair was snow white. She wore it parted in the middle and pulled back in a bun that was anchored at the nape of her neck. Her eyes were a pale blue, like the sky on a misty day, and seeme at times to look on a world no one else could see.

"Charles Ingalls!" she exclaimed as she stepped off of the porch. "It is so good to see you! I trust you have not over tired yourself to finish my cabinet?"

"No, Ma'am," he said as he climbed down from the wagon seat, careful to favor his left leg. As he approached her, he smiled. "Matter of fact, that fancy cabinet of yours complained so much about it's humble surroundings, that's it's a pure joy to bring it where it belongs."

The older woman laughed. "So you don't find my 'surroundings' humble?"

Charles' gaze took in her beautiful home – all three floors, with a cupola at the top and a detached carriage house to one side. "Well, if it is, then it gives a new meaning to the word," he said with a wink.

Margaret turned to look too. "It's lovely, but you know, I would trade it in a heartbeat to return to the home where I started with my Robert." The older woman looked at him. "I imagine it is much like your home. Robert was a carpenter too, before he became owner of the mill and made his fortune." She sighed with the memory. "He built our first home with his own hands."

"Well, yes, Ma'am, I imagine it was then since I did the same." Charles turned toward the wagon. "Still, seems to me this here cabinet would feel a bit out of place where I live."

It seemed she had forgotten why he was there until he mentioned it. Moving to the side of the wagon, the older woman peered in.

"Oh, Mr. Ingalls, you have surpassed all expectations!" she said as she ran her hand over the fine, highly polished wood. "It is a work of art!"

Charles beamed. "Thank you, Ma'am."

She looked at him. "Margaret, please. I am too young to be a 'ma'am', and too old to be a threat to that pretty wife of yours."

He laughed. "Only if you agree to call me 'Charles'."

"Charles, it is then. Now, let me get the boy who works for me and we will satisfy your cabinet by giving it a home worthy of its beauty."

oooooooooooooooo

Margaret invited him to stay for supper and offered him a room for the night and he agreed. The journey had worn him out more than he wanted to admit and by the time they had installed the cabinet, it was dark. He'd told Caroline he might be overnight so he knew she wouldn't worry, though he had intended to get a room in town. The older woman was delightful company and, though the food her chef prepared was richer and finer than what he was used to, it was flavorful and filling. Up until supper – while they worked – he'd seen no signs of what everyone talked about; how Margaret lived in the past. But during supper their talk had turned to family and she had begun to tell him all about her boys, where they were and what they were doing and how she was worried about the conflict that was ragin' and how they might have to go to war.

He'd gone to bed a mighty sad man – grateful for all he had, but sad for her loss.

When the morning came, Charles dressed quickly and came down the stairs to find breakfast already on the table. Margaret was nowhere to be found and he just about thought he was gonna end up leavin' without seeing her, when she came down the stairs with a box in her hands. After dismissing the servant, she asked him to come into the parlor with her and he did.

"Please, take a seat, Charles," she said.

He did as she did the same, sitting near the hearth in a blue velvet chair about twice her size. When a minute passed without her saying anything, he asked, "Is there somethin' I can do for you, Margaret?"

She smiled sweetly. "You can tell me about your little girls," she said. "Mary, isn't it? And Laura and Carrie?"

He nodded. When he'd come to take measurements – not too long before Christmas – they'd talked a bit about their families. She'd had three boys. He had three girls and so on.

"What would you like to hear?" he asked.

"Did they enjoy Christmas this year?"

The question caught him off-guard. "Christmas?"

The older woman nodded. "Yes, Christmas. You did have one, didn't you? I mean, in spite of your accident?"

She knew all about that, of course, from the letter he had sent her. "Yes," he said, hesitantly. "Funny thing was, because of the accident, I couldn't get them what...I..."

Charles stopped.

Margaret was staring at him. "Yes?"

"It was you? Wasn't it?" he asked, astonished.

She folded her hands over the box in her lap. "It was me, 'what'?"

He remembered now. The last time he had come to take measurements he had told Margaret how he wanted to buy the scarves and mittens at the mercantile for his wife and girls, and how Laura and Carrie were wishing for china dolls and Mary for the set of books, but that he would have to choose – there was no way he could pay for all of those things.

"It was you who had someone put that sack full of presents outside of our house," he said. It was probably the servant who had helped him unload the cabinet. Suddenly, the bank draft in his pocket was burning a hole through his pride. He reached in and drew it out. "I can't take this. You had to have spent twice as much – "

"Charles."

"What?"

"Can you put a price on joy?"

He frowned. "I beg your pardon."

The older woman shook her head. "Men. God bless and God take them!" she laughed. "You are just like my Robert. He never took a thing in his life that he didn't earn and you know what?"

He was almost afraid to ask. "What?"

"He never gave anyone else a chance to know the joy of giving."

"But, Ma'am..."

"Margaret," she corrected. Then she rose and came to his side and held out the box.

Charles looked at it and then at her.

""Have _you_ learned how to, Charles?"

oooooooooooooooo

Caroline awoke with a start. It took her a moment to realize that she was still in the chair in front of the hearth. Charles had told her he might be overnight delivering the cabinet to the Widow Mulvaney, but it had been two days and she had become worried. She kept waiting and waiting and when he didn't come, must have fallen asleep. Straightening up, she put a hand to her back and groaned. Then, she laughed. There was a time when sleeping in a straight chair overnight would have had no ill effect, but she wasn't as young as she once had been and she was feeling _every_ minute of it. With a glance at the window that showed her the sun was up and she should be too, the blonde woman rose from the chair and headed for the kitchen. The girls would be up soon and they would need breakfast.

As she reached the stove and opened the cupboard beside it to draw out the coffee pot, the blonde woman heard the sound of a wagon rolling into the yard. Closing the cupboard door again, she quickly crossed to the window and drew back the sash. It was as she thought. Charles was just climbing out of the wagon. From her place of concealment, she watched him. He was still limping. He tried to hide it when he knew she was looking, but was making no effort to do so now. Doctor Baker had said the limp would go in time, but she was still worried about him.

He had pushed himself too hard to get that cabinet done, and just because they needed the money.

As she heard his footstep on the stoop, Caroline hurried back to the kitchen and opened the cupboard door. She was just placing the pot on the stove when the door opened and he stepped inside.

"Charles!" she exclaimed as she went to his side. "You're back!"

The look he gave her before he kissed her, told her he knew she'd been at the window. "You the only one up?"

She nodded. "I let the girls sleep in. It's Saturday."

Charles' gaze went to the loft before he made his way to the table. It was only as he did that she noticed the box he carried. He sat down and placed it on the table before him, one hand to either side of it.

"What's that?" she asked as she joined him.

The look he gave her was almost comical. It put her in mind of a little boy who had been told his coat was buttoned wrong.

"A gift," he said.

The blonde woman blinked. "For the girls?"

"No."

"Not for me? Charles..."

"No, not for you either."

She sat back in her chair. "Well, then, for who?"

He looked at the box and then leaned back and sighed. "The Widow Mulvaney passed yesterday."

Shock made her unsure of what she had heard. "What? She...died? Charles, while you were there?"

Her husband nodded. "We were sittin' in her parlor. She'd just given me this when..." He paused, composing himself. "When she started talkin' to her son."

Caroline cast her mind back. "Aren't all of her children..."

"Dead. Yes." Charles drew in a breath and ran a hand across his face. "Her heart gave out. The doc said it was a blessing."

"Oh, Charles! I'm so sorry. I know how much you were counting on that bank draft."

His green eyes flicked to her and then back to the box. "She paid me. I put it in the bank this mornin'."

She was at a loss as to what to say. Finally, not knowing what else to do, she asked, "Do you know what's in there?"

He was silent for a moment. "Another blessing," he said.

As she watched, Charles lifted the lid of the box and set it aside. Within, nestled in a cradle of translucent tissue was a beautiful glass and wire angel tree topper with feather wings. He took it out and then walked over to the fireplace and set it beside her little china figure.

"God has given you two hands, Charles, she told me," he said. "One to give with and the other to receive. Whenever you forget that, just look at this Christmas angel and she will remind you."

Caroline joined him in front of the fire. She looked at the angel and then at him. "The gifts last Christmas? They were from..."

He turned and reached out a hand to cup her cheek.

"It just goes to show, Caroline, where there is great love, there are always miracles."


End file.
